Beyond Death
by Liz1986
Summary: ANGEL&COLLINS. It has been 7 years since Angel's death, and now Collins is approaching that mortal line as well... He can feel the life draining from his veins... Now he has to prepare himself. For death. And to see his Angel for the first time in 7 years
1. Chapter 1

**BEYOND DEATH**

**I decided to take a break from study and write this fiction. I obviously have no affiliation with Mr. Larson's family, his estate, and thus not RENT and don't own any of the characters. If I get positive feedback, I shall continue it.**

**SUMMARY: Seven years have passed since Angel's death, and now Collins is near death himself. He can feel it coming… his mortality never felt more limp or lifeless. Now he has to prepare himself… for death, and for seeing Angel again…**

**This story is basically one of Angel and Collins reuniting in eternity. Will things be the same? Will they be allowed to be together again?**

**This is a light fiction, hopefully nothing too depressing.**

**IMPORTANT NOTE: There will be religious depictions in here, of Jesus Christ and Saint Peter, etc… if you take offence to such depictions, I urge you not to read. Nothing offensive or disrespectful is written about them, or intended towards them, but they are in the story. I wrote them in a way that I believe that they would interact with God's children… on their level. As in, verbally and emotionally. I won't go into a religious debate about it, but I don't know. This is the warning, that's all. There is no religious mocking.**

* * *

He sat on the steps outside the loft, and after removing one glove to feel the icy snow in between his fingers. It was two weeks since he quit his job at NYU, though it felt like two years… not that time mattered much to him anymore anyway. Soon it would be coming to an end and no longer would time consume his world. No longer would he be in existence, as a matter of fact. Collins closed his eyes and a smiled weakly as he felt the cold yet gentle breeze brush his skin; his lips; his eyelids… it was a nice sensation. One of the many things he knew he would miss when mortality finally claimed him, which would be soon. He knew it. They all knew it. Mark had become ever more reserved than usual. Mimi would break down sporadically when she looked at Collins' thinner, more delicate state as he was ravaged by the disease. Maureen would make jokes and try to avoid the subject all together, to distance herself. Joanne threw herself into her work. Even Benny was affected… he was being less of an asshole, at least. So maybe he did care… right? And Roger… Roger, as you would naturally assume, was in denial, and convinced himself that Collins was just going through a grief-stricken phase, given what time of the year it was. It was closing in on Halloween, which held duel meanings for the anarchist professor – one being that it had been his lover's favourite holiday of the year. And, ironically, it had also been the day of Angel's death. So there was a mixed feeling – to celebrate the deceased drag queen's life, or to mourn his death on the anniversary of seven years. Seven looooooong years it had been. Seven birthdays. Seven Easters. Seven Christmas'. Seven New Years. Seven years to reflect on the short, yet magical ten months in which Tom Collins and Angel Dumott Schunard had spent together, with more love being shared than most people experience in ten lifetimes, because they knew the time they had together on earth was short. The only thing that kept Collins connected to sanity was the knowledge that sooner, rather than later, he would be joining his lover in eternity. This, of course, was not a healthy mindset when facing death, but nonetheless it eased the pain. Don't get me wrong, he loved his friends and being with them – he lived each moment with them to the fullest, knowing full well that it would be a long time he would see them again. Especially Mark, Joanne, and Maureen, all three of whom did not face the prospects of early death. Their veins were clean and pure, not contaminated and rotting as was his, Roger's, and Mimi's. Seven years. It felt like seven eternities had come to pass, and despite the saying, time does not heal the wounds… if anything, it drags the pain out the point of absolute insanity, and now Collins was on a fine edge. Part of him was too scared, and did not want to die… he wanted to be with his friends; his family. But the idea of being with Angel again... that idea of life – _eternity_ – after death was so powerful, it was almost enticing. Like he was _willing_ death to hurry up and consume him. His dream-like state was interrupted, when from the depths of his lungs he felt the tension rising; the contraction of the muscles. Collins' eyes flung open and widened, and his one hand clutched at his chest while the other flew to his mouth, and another violent coughing fit overcame him. He fell back against the wall and his whole body shook very badly with each contraction of the muscles and each cough that was released, the pain was sharp but passed very quickly. Seconds later, the coughing subsided and Collins gasped for air, willing his lungs to expand and fill with the drink of life.

"Shit…" he breathed, with one hand still on his chest and his chest rose and fell very visibly. "Fuck!"

The weather was becoming more chilled as it headed towards evening. Collins was supposed to go up to the loft to be with his friends for the night; they wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. He knew it wasn't good to be out here for too much longer and pulled his same coat Angel had bought him on that first Christmas, around him tighter and dropped the dripping snow. He then slipped his glove on and grasped the step railing. He winced. His nerves were more sensitive now to the cold, and he was trembling so violently that it was getting more difficult to gather the strength; the energy to conduct even the simplest of tasks, such as standing up. Nevertheless, he made an attempt and gripped the iron bar with one hand, while with the other he pushed up off the ground. Within seconds he was in a standing position, though waited to regain some lost balance.

"Wow… got it on the first try," he muttered to himself, sarcastically. The environment around him suggested hostility was growing from Mother Nature, and it would no longer be wise for someone with AIDS to be out here, alone, as the natural conditions became even more unforgiving. Just as he moved to turn around…

"COLLINS!"

Mimi was poking her head out the window; her face showing nothing but concern for her friend whom she knew was slipping away from them. What hurt the most was that, like Angel, Collins was dying slowly… the emotional pain he knew that they all were feeling, superseded the debilitating physical limitations that the Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome inflicted on its victims. He smiled and gave her a reassuring wave to let her know he was okay.

"Sweetie, I swear if you don't get your ass up here, you know Roger will haul you up here, himself!"

Collins chuckled and rubbed his hands together. Oh how he would miss Mimi's delightfully charming wit. "Yeah, yeah… I get it, _mom_!" he called back, teasingly. She scowled, shooting him a deadly glare – all in good nature, of course.

"Cute, _Thomas_, real cute!"

"You know, it actually helps if you could throw down the key!" he retorted playfully. "Or do you want me to _climb_ up there?"

Mimi giggled and threw down the key for him. A second later, he caught it and flicked through the four or five keys on the chain to find the right one. "Get up here!"

"_Okay_!"

Letting out a wistful sigh, Collins dragged him up the three steps to the loft entrance – even that was a strained effort for him now. His appearance bore the stress of it all, the years of being torn apart by an invisible but ever present killer. His eyes were a little sunken; his weight had dropped significantly; his demeanor very drawn and there was very little effort that could be exerted for anything other than what was absolutely necessary.

**MEANWHILE – IN THE ETERNAL LIFE**

Angel hugged his pillow and watched the scene play out before his eyes… he wanted to be so happy that finally he would be with his lover once more. But the pain their friends was going through was more than enough for him to want to scream that Collins should remain on earth, that maybe his time could be extended for a little longer. It was complicated issue, one in which his fellow heavenly spirits had told him, upon arrival, was a common feeling to have. That was why all of God's children now in the eternal realm were only allowed to look in to the earthly world only a few times a year, for their own protection. Over the seven years he had been here now, separated from his family literally by eternity, Angel absorbed every opportunity he had been granted to view them. At first it was scary and painful, to see them all grieving over his death… and to not be able to give them any sign that he was okay, that everything was okay, was so hard to deal with. But he had come close. With Mimi's near-death experience in 1990, when she too was almost claimed by death… but all it was, was Angel's opportunity. Saint Peter, himself, had informed the troubled angel that he had permission to relieve himself and some of his family's pain by meeting Mimi half way. And of course, Angel jumped at the chance.

_DECEMBER, 1990…_

"_Mimi?" Roger cried in disbelief in seeing the fingers of the love of his life move. For the past thirty seconds, they all believed Mimi Marquez had gone. Died. But now… her eyes opened! Mark, Maureen, Joanne, and Collins, all stared in silent disbelief as Roger helped Mimi sit up, and simultaneously moved – or rushed – to the table in which she had been lying on. She felt the pounding headache and closed her eyes again briefly, praying for it to subside. Of course, it didn't. She opened them again and looked around, and then at Roger._

"_I was in a tunnel… heading for this warm, bright light!" she whispered, in a dazed, confused state. "And I swear…" she looked at Collins. "Angel was there!"_

_His heart started pounding even harder. Mimi continued._

"_And… she looked good!" she reassured him, and everyone felt a little lighter, some chuckling, though all smiling at that comment. Mimi then turned back to Roger, brushing her fingers against his cheek. "And she said… turn around, girlfriend, and listen to that boy's song!"_

That was the only communication Angel ever had with them after his death. He didn't know if Collins was gonna die, but from the looks of things, his gorgeous, loving professor lover was growing weaker. Tired. Just as he had done seven years ago; the exact same process. So, it wasn't difficult to understand why Angel was so conflicted right now, and no one would tell him a thing! It wasn't as if you could take a ticket, get in line, and wait for your number to be called so you could speak to The Almighty or His son. A request would be made, and it was always honored… a lot of them time he didn't even need to say a word, and he would be taken to see someone. And yes, he had been before Him. Three times. Not for any bad reasons, obviously. This was heaven, after all. Heaven was… nothing like anyone on earth could ever imagine… it wasn't crowded. There were other souls to speak with, but it was an unlimited paradise! Beautiful gardens… the softness of everything, and its purity… love radiated from everything. God's essence resided in each breath that His children took. It truly was paradise. Angel's paradise was, though, to be with Collins again. That's all he ever wanted.  
Dressed in a pure white, knee-length silk gown and silk pants, Angel sat on white blanket in The Garden, and watched in what was called The Gateway Pool, as Collins entered the loft and was greeted by their friends. He and Roger embraced.

Angel smiled and ate an apple… obviously, when first presented with choice of food, and there were apples, well… you can understand his reluctance. But it didn't last long.

"Angel?"

Snapping out of his mesmerized state by the beauty of his boyfriend, whom he hadn't been able to look in on for almost two earth-bound years, Angel turned around just enough to see Saint Michael standing no more then ten feet away, wearing a glowing white full-length gown, white sandals… kinda like the pictorial depictions artists had been doing for centuries on earth. A true higher being.

"Sir…" Angel stuttered and stood up straight and brushed bits of excess apple of his gown and stood before the Higher Spirit, bowing in due respect. Michael chuckled and casually moved forward, his hands firmly clasped behind his back. "Hi, I mean…"

"Angel, child, fear not… there's no need to be so formal with me. This is your home," Michael assured with a lot of softness… it was comforting to the young spirit. "There is no need to tremble." He stood next to Angel, and placed his hand on his back. The two started walking through the garden, and Angel loved the softness of the smoothly cut grass between his toes. Leaving his own sandals with the blanket, by The Gateway Pool, Angel gave Michael his full attention, confused to why this Higher Spirit was here…

"I'm sorry," Angel smiled. "It still feels, you know… weird, sometimes. That's all."

"I understand. Fear is not what The Almighty wishes to instill into His children… a humble fear, respect, yes… but do not fear Him."

"I try not to, but sometimes… sometimes I feel like if I do something wrong, then I'll be kinda…" Angel frowned, searching for the right word. "I know it… I do! I..."

"Condemned?" Michael guessed, smiling. Angel nodded.

"That's it!"

It was Saint Michael's turn to frown, and he lowered his arm from around Angel's shoulders, and instead picked up his hand, for comfort. "I must ask why, child. Why would you fear being cast aside? This is your home. He knows your heart, and your heart belongs here…"

Angel's eyes were downcast now to the lush green grass, feeling slightly silly for fearing those who loved him forever, and his love for God knew no bounds. "I know. But it's not like I was living to His Will on earth, and I sometimes feel like I walk on eggshells… waiting for the moment when He decides I don't belong here. Like He made a mistake or something."

Saint Michael led Angel onto the path and they continued their stroll. He knew that it was Angel's time to look in on his loved ones, which was specifically why he had come at this time. Angel's heart was full of fear and uncertainty, and Saint Michael had been sent to him to ease that fear… to restore it with hope. Even Angel's body language now, his lowered eyes and timid posture… he was uncertain. "Angel, God makes no mistakes. He makes no errors. I believe this is you holding onto your past… you believe your lifestyle on earth should have condemned you to an eternity of torment? Why is that? Because you lived the life of poverty?" he stopped and thus Angel stopped with him, and turned so that they faced each other.

He placed his finger under Angel's chin and raised his head just enough so their eyes could meet. Angel was forced to look at him.

"No," he whispered with the essence of innocence. "Because I was… am… gay…"

Saint Michael kissed this troubled child's forehead and embraced him, lovingly. "Oh, Angel. Poor child. Your heart knows so much love and hope and honesty… yet its flaw is that of uncertainty. You must let this go, to embrace God's full love."

"I know. I understand, I do! I just don't get it is all…"

"Angel, you are here because your heart is love. It may not have been pure when you arrived, but all children of God know sin at some point in their earthly existence. You are no different. He forgives those who wish to be forgiven… those of whom know His love and embrace it," Saint Michael stopped momentarily to study how Angel was absorbing these kind, comfort words. He seemed to be understanding; Angel relaxed more and felt more at ease.

"Child, I sense this is the first time you've felt so troubled, am I right?"

Angel nodded.

"Am I wrong in assuming that you sense your lover's impending death. You are scared of whether he will be here… whether you will be reunited?"

Again, Angel agreed with another nod and Saint Michael reached up and brushed away a tear that had just fallen from Angel's eye.

"I cannot tell you, child, as to Thomas Collins' future. That is not my decision, nor is it my prerogative to know… only God may know this. But have faith, child. Faith."

Angel sniffed and gazed around at paradise. His paradise. "And what if that's not enough to bring him here?"

"Faith is always enough to ease the troubled heart. Remember that," Saint Michael then kissed his forehead again and gave Angel a small bow and pat on the shoulder. He then turned and walked away, down the path in the direction they had been walking in, leaving Angel standing next to the pure, clear water pool. Angel turned back and ran over to his spot on the blanket again, and dropped to his knees. He leaned over and peered into The Pool once more and bit his lip, hoping that it would reveal more and that it hadn't closed yet. Collins was sure to pass in the coming days if his illness kept progressing at this rate… now, The Pool revealed the image of Collins being helped to lay down on the sofa in the loft, it appeared that he was coughing very violently. The pain was visible even to Angel and he felt a lump rising in the back of his throat. There wasn't much time left now, between Collins and his eternal destiny…

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**_AUTHOR'S NOTES:_ Okay, so this is the start… kinda like a test. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and I hope I get positive reviews so I can work on this. I am studying hard, so I'll try update, but it all depends if you want me to continue.**

**Let me know please, by depositing a review. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**BEYOND DEATH**

**Chapter: 2**

**_SUMMARY:_ In this chapter, Collins' condition worsens and we join our bohemians as they gather to stay close by him in his final days. Collins, ignoring the pleas of the people he loves, refuses to go to the hospital. Angel receives some interesting news about when his lover from a fellow angel. **

**NOTE: This is a more spiritual chapter, with the interaction between the mortal world and the eternal world taking place.**

* * *

Roger skulked around in the background, silently fuming at his best friend's complete stubbornness and refusal to listen to reason. Why was Collins making this difficult like this? Did he _want_ them to suffer like they did with Angel? Roger knew more than anyone that morality for AIDS victims was ever present and that this day was gonna come… but selfishly he still wished that he had died first, so he didn't have to experience the pain again. But he didn't want to leave Mimi or his friends. Glaring darkly at Collins' severely deteriorated condition – the dark color of his skin had greatly paled; his skin was a lot rougher, the texture had all but disappeared. The lack of energy from the once energetic college professor was what signified most of all that the end was near. He was now lying on the sofa, his head in Mimi's lap. Maureen was sitting on the arm of it, with Joanne standing just behind her. Mark was in the kitchen fixing a couple of them up with some coffee… no one was saying anything; it was quite, as per Collins' wishes. Each blink was enough to drain him of any strength that his dying body could muster to keep his heart pumping blood through it all. Joanne had her hands on Maureen's shoulders for support, and Mimi could barely stop herself from sobbing loudly, but the shaking of her body indicated to everyone, including Collins, that she was wracked with silent pain. He felt guilty as they all had to watch him die, the way they all did with Angel… and apart of him wanted to be alone, so they didn't have to see it. But the other, more dominant part, wanted to be no where else other than with his family. He had even made peace with Benny a few days earlier, not wanting any unsettled business to accompany him into death. In a strange way, knowing that morality was slowly eating away at his time on earth, it was kind of a relief to know. It was better than them all being surprised. Perhaps that was one of only a very few concessions this disease gave to its victims, and I'm not just talking about the ones with the virus… but the emotional victims, too. He opened his eyes and waited for them to adjust to the light. Licking his dried lips, which had been deprived of the moisture that his body now needed to preserve his life, Collins opened his mouth to speak… but it was hard.

"Mi… Mimi?" he hoarsely spluttered, being interrupted by a couple of violent coughs that ripped through his body. Everyone's attention diverted to him when they heard his voice, and everyone – except Roger – rushed to his side. Mimi smiled through her tears and lovingly stroked his forehead.

"Ya, Collins-baby? Need anything?"

"Shouldn't you, like… not be talking?" Maureen chimed in, though was serious… her confusion was genuine. Joanne whispered for her to hush up, and like once in a blue moon, Maureen complied. Mark walked back over to them, carrying on a small tray four cups of coffee. He stopped when he saw the attention everyone was paying Collins; something must've happened. Collins' attention remained firmly fixated on the Latina dancer, staring down at him. Her eyes were warm and inviting as always, and the drugs that had once consumed her existence had not much affect on her now… now she was just plain Mimi Marquez, beautiful dancer and wonderful friend. But there was nothing 'plain' about her.

"Collins, sweetie? What's up?" she repeated.

"Can I have some water?" he asked, softly. She reached over to the side table next to them and picked up the paper cup and brought it around for him. Mimi then put her free hand on the back of Collins' head and lifted him up just enough so he could take the cup to his lips. Feeling the cold, icy water passing across his lips, over his tongue, and down his throat… it was beautiful. Maybe the taste of things to come. Right now, with the pain and discomfort… death would be a blessing. For more reasons than one. "Thanks," he muttered after he had finished and Mimi placed the cup aside once more and kissed his forehead.

"No problem…"

Mark set the coffee down on the table and frowned in Roger's direction. This wasn't helping Collins – Roger's attitude wasn't making this easy on any of them. So quietly he made his way over to the musician and put his hand on his shoulder.

"What you doing?" he hissed.

"What?"

"You're doing it again!"

"_What_?"

Great. Roger seemed to really have no clue about any of it; he had retreated back into his own fucked up world where reality sucked and he didn't open up. In times like these, even Mimi had trouble getting through to him. And it wasn't like Collins didn't hear or know any of it was going on – he had known Roger like a brother for years, so they knew everything about each other.

"Collins doesn't need this, you know," Mark seriously stressed and at the same time he didn't want to cause alarm to the others. Roger rolled his eyes and slumped against the wall, stubbornly refusing to look at the filmmaker, or at anyone else. Instead, he stared at the ground, thinking of everything that was wrong in the world and why this was happening again. He couldn't have his heart torn up again, he just couldn't! "He needs us, man…"

"Fuck you, Mark," Roger calmly replied, and looked up at him. "I deal with this the way I want. The idea that we gotta just sit by," his tone darkened to a growl. "And watch our friend – our _best_ friend – slowly lose his grip on life… just exactly what part of this am I supposed to be okay with? Nah… I can't. I won't!"

It was times like these when Mark wanted to just knock Roger out for a few hours, and let him lie there. Maybe his subconscious will give him the kick he needs to realize that these could possibly be Collins' last few hours with them and Roger was stewing in his own misery? How was this helping _anything_? Mark sighed with frustration and looked over his shoulder to see that Maureen was now kneeling down at Collins' side and holding his hand, whispering with him. He was smiling very weakly, and Joanne placed another blanket across him in a vein attempt for the warmth to keep him with them. Mark turned back to Roger.

"You almost made the same mistake with Mimi, Rog…" he whispered. "Don't let him go without knowing that you care…"

Mimi, Maureen, and Joanne struggled to calm Collins who was tensing up a little; the discomfort more than obvious now and it pained them all to know that there was no stopping it. No controlling it. This was it. Thomas Collins' body was in the process of shutting down. "Collins, sweetie, we should get you to the hospital!"

"Mims, I'm fine," he coughed. "Just a little tired, is all."

"Sleep is good, but you need a doctor!" she pressed, seriously. Damn, this boy could be so stubborn when he wanted to be – just like Angel. "Tom, I don't think you're thinking right to—"

"Mimi!" he spoke with more harshness, forcing his eyelids to separate even further. "I'm _fine_."

"Mimi's right, Collins," Joanne jumped in. "The doctors can make it easier for you—"

"The easiest thing for me, Jo… the best thing for me… is to be here with you guys. That's all I want."

Maureen frowned. "But Angel—"

"Angel's dead," he cut her off, brashly. "Don't compare me or my death to Angel's. It's not the same."

"No it's not," Mimi told him, matching his tone. "At least Angel knew when she needed help. At least she didn't spend her last hours giving up on surviving…"

"And look where that got her!" Collins snapped. "I don't wanna die. But I know when it's time. No hospital."

**WITH ANGEL**

Angel was lying on the hammock which was gently swinging back and forth; with one leg draped over the side and his hands rested lightly on his chest, he stared up into the vast whiteness of the space above. Above, right up there… it was kinda like what the sky was to earth. Who knows what was up there? He didn't even wanna try to ponder that one as he continued to swing and chewed a piece of gum. There were plenty of things that he could do; there was no limitations on entertainment here… as long as they were _tasteful_, obviously. But Angel was just content to lie there. The energy he had exercised on earth was still running through his veins, but now the whole vastness and difference of this world was enough to keep him happy. Just to his left, sitting on the grass, was Ashley Taylor, another New Yorker (she was born in Mississippi but had moved to NYC when she was eight years old)… she was 19 years old at the time of her death. It was no secret to why she had died, under what circumstances. She had been raped and the stabbed. And she had been here long before Angel arrived – Ashley had died almost twenty years before Angel did. The two had met only days after he arrived and instantly became fast friends for obvious reasons. She was a very pretty young woman as well… sandy blonde hair that reached her waist; piercing blue eyes; slender; tall… a classic American beauty and it was at a party where she was drugged, and then the bastard proceeded to rape and kill her. 1970. The drugs were flowing freely and Ashley had always been apart it from the time her friend had introduced her to the wonderful world of LSD. Now, she and Angel had become best friends in this new world and they did almost everything together.

Ashley sat on the grass; drawing a picture of the landscape in front of her. A beautiful waterfall; surrounded by the lush gardens that her friend and Saint Michael had been wandering through earlier that day. She was definitely a beautiful artist, and couldn't stop drawing for anything. Angel continued to stare upwards. Overall it was a lazy, lazy time for them and they wouldn't have it any other way.

"Hey, Ang?"

Angel was so zoned out so far that he was not paying.

"Angel?" she stopped and looked up, and smiled. She knew Angel had a lot on his mind lately, but _come on_! Naturally Angel had told her about Collins and that it was coming up to his time to join them. She'd thought he'd be more excited, but apparently not… definitely keeping his cool. Maybe he still had some reservations about it all, and Ashley couldn't blame him. Maybe she should tell him…

"Angel? Sweetie?" she pushed herself up off the ground and stood up, and moved over to the hammock. When seeing someone standing at his side, Angel didn't move but his eyes shifted to meet hers.

"Hey, baby!" he cheerfully replied. "I thought you said you didn't want any interruptions until you were done."

"True," she giggled. "But seeing you spaced out like that… too funny!"

"Oh ha, ha!" Angel mocked and sat up. "What'd you want?"

"Ooh, testy," Ashley smirked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…why?"

His friend shrugged and clasped her hands behind her back. "No reason. Like I said, you just seem… distant. That's all. Has this got anything to do with Collins?"

Angel stood up and came face-to-face with the young woman who had helped him so much, to adjust to life in eternity. With feigned tension, he came to within inches of her and stopped. "And what makes you think that?"

Ashley rolled her eyes. "Only because you think about him every second, babe. Come on. Tell me, you know you wanna!"

"Oh really?"

"Yup."

"You're annoying, you know that?"

"Not annoying!" Ashley faked hurt. "You know I'm dazzlingly charming."

"Uh-huh! Right…"

"Yup."

They stopped talking and both silently glared at each other; waiting for one to crack first and it didn't take long before the corners of Ashley's lips were tugging in an upwards direction and burst out into hysterical laughter. Angel did the same and within three seconds, she had accidentally tripped over his foot and went crashing to the ground – but not without taking Angel with her. The two friends, tangled on the ground, were hysterically laughing and playfully pushing at each other and Ashley reached over and grabbed Angel's hand, pulling him closer to her and trapped his hand in a certain position that prevented him from moving without twisting his arm.

"OWW!" he yelped and pushed at her back. "Hey, no fair!"

"Life's not fair, baby…"

They both stopped when that slipped from her tongue and glanced at each other. What an odd thing to say, given that they were both dead. But once again, the amusement of the situation won over and both started into a fit of giggles, which quickly grew into loud laughing again.

"Hey, watch the nails!" Angel warned, lightly and twisted himself out of her grip and again launched himself at her, effectively pinning her to the ground and tickled her, knowing where all her weak spots. Under the arms. At her neck. And on her stomach. These were her vulnerable positions and Angel knew it, attacking her in each one and Ashley felt she was gonna explode from the sensations if she didn't get out from under his grip.

"Okay! Okay, I surrender!" she squealed; her gasping expression providing her friend with much entertainment.

"Nope! Not good enough!"

"Aww, come on Ang! Show mercy!"

"Umm… no!"

"ANGEL! PLEEEEEEEASE?" she was reaching bursting point now and her face was turning bright red from the tickling. "Or…" her words were now being broken up by gasps for air, and evil Angel showed no signs of slowing down. "I… won't…" she breathed. "I won't tell you something about your lover!"

Angel stopped, as you would expect. "What?"

He jumped off Ashley and helped the former LSD-junkie to her feet and she held on to him as she caught her breath. That pretty much caught the drag queen's attention, she knew and turned her head just enough to hide the smirk she couldn't help stop creeping onto her face. There had been talk going around; gossiping in some circles, regarding Angel… as you can imagine, he was as popular in Heaven as he was on earth… his gentle but energetic spirit touching the eternal realm. That's probably the reason why he was so accepted, and so comfortable here.

"Ashley!"

"What?" she faked innocence, batting her eyelashes. Angel groaned and grabbed her arm, jumping up and down impatiently.

"What about Collins?" his impatience grew exponentially by the second.

"Huh?"

"Collins!"

"Collins?"

"ASHLEY!"

Being a girl of the sixties, Ashley grew up in a time when life, love, sex, all of it didn't mean much in the sense of monogamy, so she never really understood why Angel was so hooked on being with one person, at least at first. They learned a lot from each other about the things they lacked in themselves, but now the look in his eyes was that of a serious nature, so she calmed down somewhat. "Okay," she replied. "Okay, Ang… chill. Come over here," Ashley grabbed his hand and led Angel towards a couple of swings that hung from the huge oak tree not too far away. The two parted hands and each took a swing.

"Ashley!" Angel pleaded, desperately. "Girl, what'd you know? Please!"

"You sure you wanna know?"

He was about ready to pounce on this girl and tear her hair out if she didn't say anything – and being in Heaven as they were, that would _not_ be a good idea.

"Well…" this was the part where Ashley started getting nervous about this – it wasn't particularly good news, but then again it could be! Depending on which perspective you looked at it from. "I guess… it's just I heard some of the others _talking_…"

"Who?"

"You know… Stacy, Maggie, _Jonathan_…"

"Jonathan? You mean--?"

"Jonathan Hanley? Yup."

Jonathan and Angel didn't actually get along all that well, and for good reason… Jonathan was what people on earth would a religious nut. But generally he was a good person and was from Tennessee. He couldn't believe that Angel wasn't rotting in the pits of hell because he was gay, and that conflicted him greatly – Jonathan knew The Father never made mistakes, but to let this guy in? No! It wasn't right! And now with news spreading that Angel's _lover_ was days or even hours away from joining them… it sickened him beyond belief! That's why he had been assigned to speak with some of the Hierarchy to teach him a little more about compassion, but it wasn't going well. It never did. It didn't bother Angel though, he didn't bother to listen to the rantings of this otherwise delusional soul with his own beliefs on Heavenly 'standards'.

"And what has _he_ been ranting about now?"

"You and Collins."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Apparently he found out from somewhere that Collins isn't meant to be coming here… at least, not yet."

Angel could literally feel his heart shatter in a thousand pieces. "W—what?"

Ashley moved over to him and stood behind him, and placed her arms around his shoulders and whispered… "I know."  
Standing up straight, she then moved around the swing to stand in from of the now-heartbroken Angel. "He's been spreading around that he heard Collins isn't supposed to be here. At least not for another couple of years. And," she tensed up. "We all know what that means if Collins is brought here before he's meant to be here."

And she wasn't kidding. Usually it meant, when a soul approached The Gates before his or her time was written, that could only mean one thing – they weren't coming in at all. On rare occasions the person who arrived would be granted a near-death experience; a chance to fix whatever faults they may have on earth. One chance for redemption. Angel didn't understand what Collins had done that was so irredeemable, and the idea that his lover could be, in fact, heading to an eternity of fiery torment…

"No," Angel whispered, and started to shake. "No… he's lying. Ashley, he's lying. Jonathan's just out to hurt me again, I won't believe it!"

Ashley was feeling the uncomfortable of the situation – how were you supposed to comfort a troubled angel? "Ang… there's more… Jessica overheard something not good, sweetie. She heard that Collins isn't supposed to be here."

"NO!" Angel screamed and jumped up, almost knocking Ashley back to the ground. "No…" he repeated, with uncertainty. When he turned back to face her, Ashley saw the heartbreak that was overwhelming him already and tears. "No, he's coming here! He HAS to, Ash!"

"Angel, I—"

"They gotta let him in… he's a wonderful person; I love him!" Angel continued to ramble, as if he was trying to convince himself that the possibility of Collins not coming here to be with him. "God knows that, right? He knows that we're in love, Ash, He HAS to know!"

"Angel, shut up!"

Angel sank to the soft ground and sobbed loudly, and in a lightning flash his friend was at his side, holding him and soothingly cooing soft words as he sank back into her arms. Jonathan had really gone overboard this time, they both knew – while they had all made it here because they are all good, loving servants of God, His children… that didn't mean they still couldn't have their differences, but this was just ruthlessly malicious now and that kind of thing would not be tolerated. Ashley rubbed Angel's arms and kissed her cheek.

"Baby, I'm sorry…" she whispered, sadly. Now she was feeling the guilt of presenting such news to him… maybe now wasn't such a good time.

"Why wouldn't they let him in?" Angel's confusion rang clear in the tone of his voice and he looked up at her like a lost child looking up at an adult for help. "Why?"

"I dunno, Ang… I dunno what to say… except we gotta have faith."

**BACK WITH OUR BOHEMIANS ON EARTH**

The clock on the wall now read 2:00 AM and Collins had still yet to feel those tiny tugs at the corner of his eyes that would tell him his body is ready for sleep. Everyone else was asleep; all keen to stay just in case that time come. Mimi was the one to fight off the call of sleep until the last possible moment and though they had agreed to have one person stay awake to tend to Collins' needs, should he need someone, the first volunteer (Mark) had fallen asleep about thirty minutes after assuming the responsibility. Looking around at Maureen and Joanne, who were both utilizing the fold-out sofa, and Mark curled up on the floor covered in blankets… it was strange to him, that they had never really spent a night like this all together. Not for partying. Not even to take care of him. Just… to be together… it was peaceful. Standing at the window, gazing out into the night sky, which was clear and the stars were actually visible to New Yorkers – so it must be a beautiful night! Collins raised a hand and pressed it against the glass; the chilled nature of it sending shivers down his spine. A perfect night to take a stroll up to the roof and sit there, enjoying the twilight of the stars, probably with a little strain because of the intensity of New York's lights. He smiled and the more he thought about it, the better the idea sounded.

Within ten seconds Collins had slipped his coat that Angel had brought him on, and wrapped a scarf around his neck and crossed the loft to the door. Sliding it open, he looked over his shoulder at the quiet loft in a moment of silent questioning if this was the right thing to do. Nevertheless, he walked out and closed the door behind him, making sure to not disturb his friends who would surely thwart his attempt to go to the roof if they work to see him leaving.

It was a struggle, no doubt; the anarchist feeling like the wind was getting knocked out of his very soul with each second or third step, and had to stop for minutes on end for a collective total of eight times before he reached the final landing and practically collapsed against the door that would allow him out into the open air. Twisting the doorknob and shoving the heavy object with all his might, the door gave way and Collins stepped out into the cool air of the night. It was like walking into a brick wall, the way the cold air hit his body, but it didn't faze him and his pace didn't slow with the renewed energy he got from being outside and away from the constraints – as loving and meaningful to him as they were – of his friends keeping a birds-eye watch on him. It got kind of annoying. He knew their intentions were of pure gold, but he still needed his space for the time he had left. Collins didn't want to go, but he didn't want to stay either.

He looked around for an appropriate place to sit, and it was then that, that energy held in him had disappeared and once more, fatigue was setting in. It stunned him for a brief moment and it took a few seconds for him to regain his composure; dizziness had set in and the world seemed a little off-balance.

"Fuck…" he winced and grabbed the nearest object to balance him self. Collins slowed down enough to keep upright and gazed around, desperate for some place to sit, and found one not too far away. He moved over to the ledge very slowly, using his hands to guide his way as his vision became more distorted, in the final stages of the virus and it was driving that final dagger into his heart. Sitting down on the ledge and swinging his legs over the side, there was only one thing he could say, "Angel… Angel…"

**WITH ANGEL**

"ANGEL! ANGEL!" Jessica came tearing around the corner; her footsteps pounding the path but barely making a sound as she was lighter than a feather. Angel had significantly calmed down since being told that Jonathan Hanley was spreading rumors again, and was now laying with Ashley, their arms around each other, leaning against that same oak tree and throwing small stones into the lake that was about ten feet away from them. Neither had been saying anything, rather than keeping each other company. But when Jessica Simons, a 13-year-old British girl, came around the corner, screaming for the drag queen, their attentions had been caught and Angel sat straight up just as Jessica came to a screeching halt in front of them. She was panting and breathing heavily, red in the face, looking a little more than worried.

"Whoa, whoa, sweetheart!" Angel calmly said. "What's up, chica? You okay?"

"Ang…" the child breathed. "You gotta… you gotta…" she pointed in the direction she had been running from. "Come… come!"

"What?"

"The Gateway Pool! He's calling your name!"

"WHAT?"

Angel needed know explanation as to who she was talking about and in a flash he was on his feet and Jess grabbed his hand, and the two started running, leaving Ashley still lying there stunned as to what just went down.

"Okay…" she muttered to herself. "That was odd."

And the blonde former-junkie got up and took off after them – Jess was usually a calm, relatively sensitive and reserved girl who rarely rose her voice but now she was on the verge of hysteria, so whatever was happening it had to be important. Thirty seconds later, Ashley came to what the attention was as several of their friends were gathered around the Pool, with Angel already on his knees on the blanket, feverishly yelling for the Pool to gather its energy to show them the image. This never happened before! Never had The Pool called to any of them like this! It was rare when angels got to have an encounter with it, and only the Hierarchy could access it like this, so what was happening now was a strange phenomena. Ashley stood back in total awe, blinking.

Angel, with tears now streaming down his face again, urged the Pool – _begging_ – for it to show him his lover.

"Please…" he implored in a whisper. "Please… let me see him… please…"

"Angel…" Collins' voice rang through the still distorted, rippled Pool and Angel became more desperate.

"Collins? Honey?" It was a long shot that Collins would be able to hear him, but still… "COLLINS?"

**WITH COLLINS**

Sitting on the edge now, his eyes barely open and his soul unable to further register the power of the wind against his skin.

"Collins?" the heavenly voice echoed in his ears.

"Angel…" he wanted to speak with more force, but couldn't. This was the most intense spiritual moment of his entire life, and it was coming now… please, God, let it come now… reunite the two lost lovers. "Angel… my love…"

His fingers gripped the ledge with renewed force though his eyes remained closed, shutting out the visual distractions that would keep him from this journey. Collins was no fool – the odds of him actually being reunited with Angel were slim. But there was always hope, and that was what he was holding onto right now, that was all he could hold on to. Smiling, the professor then felt a calm serene wash over him and leaned back against the pole behind him.

"Collins…"

"Angel… Angel…" and then, "ANGEL!"

His eyes flew open, and… there was nothing complete blackness. The mortal world had completely disappeared.

**WITH ANGEL**

Angel squeezed his eyes shut and let out an agonizing sob when Collins' voice faded out and still The Gateway Pool had revealed the images he so desperately needed to see. He didn't notice that around him, two Archangels had appeared to usher the young spirits away from The Pool. Gabriel and Raphael ordered the angels away until it was only they and Angel whom remained, but Angel remained oblivious to their present. He cried hysterically into the palms of his hands, occasionally whispering Collins' name, or 'please'. This was no ordinary situation… in fact, their orders came from The Father, Himself. While the reason why was not clear to even them, they had been told to link them. Link the lovers. Angel and Collins had experienced love deeper than many other people had before, maybe that was a reason why… but Gabriel and Raphael had their orders. The raw emotion that was so obvious in each sob, or each call of Thomas Collins' name, was enough to convince them of the true love that existed, and now it was time… God had yet to reveal his plan for the drag queen and the professor, even to His Son, or His Archangels. While Gabriel remained in his spot, Raphael, the Angel of Death, moved forward and stretched out his arm as he approached the crying angel kneeling at The Pool. He touched Angel's shoulder and whispered a something in ancient Hebrew, and the young angel felt a warm sensation surround him, and… he opened his eyes. And all was black…

* * *

**_AUTHOR'S NOTES:_ In the next chapter – Collins is confronted by the eternal world. And for the first time in seven years, he sees his beloved Angel. Mark discovers Collins' limp body on the rooftop later that morning.**


End file.
